


Sunflower Smiles

by KayLingLing7



Series: Body Paint AU [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Artist Jean, Body Paint, Dancer, Embarassment, Eren Is a Little Shit, Fluff, M/M, dancer actor Marco, lap dance, makeup artist Jean, obvious flirting, side Reiner/Bertholdt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5471393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayLingLing7/pseuds/KayLingLing7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is a body painter working at a flower festival, and Marco is the performer he'll be working on today. Which is all fine and dandy, because Marco might be the best model he's ever worked on, but then there's also Eren, who just has to go and embarrass Jean in front of everyone.</p>
<p>Body Paint AU. This is how Jean and Marco met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunflower Smiles

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this in September and I only finished it now, but it's inspired by something that happened while I was doing a bodypaint job in September for a wine auction. It's based of these two drawings [(one)](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/122869177011/galaxies-in-your-skin-so-im-sick-at-the-moment) [(two)](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/127259196416/this-is-a-continuation-of-this-drawing-or-at) I've done - this is how Jean and Marco met in my body paint AU.  
> This work is for [axefieldlikesbuttsmutt](http://axefieldlikesbuttsmutt.tumblr.com), who was the driving force to get this fic written.  
> Also, just a note on world building: this fic is set in spring, and all the performers have underwear and bras on when they're being painted.

“Hey, um... What’s your name?”

“Oh! Sorry, it’s Marco.”

“Alright, cool. Marco, if you could just stand here for me.”

“Here?”

“Yes. Actually no, turn a little for me. A little bit more. Perfect.”

“Great, um...?”

“Right, sorry. My name is Jean.”

“Hi, Jean, nice to meet you.” 

The man holds out his hand, and it takes me a moment to shift my paintbrush from my right hand to my left and reach out to give it a shake. The models weren’t usually this polite, generally just saying their name and then going quiet while I went to work. They talked to other body painters, of course – painters who were enthusiastic and outgoing and easy to get along with. Me? Most people would describe me with three words: grumpy artistic asshole. Grumpy artistic assholes didn’t make friends quickly.

While shaking his hand I looked up to actually take in his face for the first time. Of course I had looked at his body earlier, as I had with all the other dancers in the room - a quick cursory glance to tell me what I was dealing with today, but this was the first time I took him in. Bright brown eyes, a big smile, dimples in his cheeks. Freckles laid on thicker than glitter that would no doubt be covered in thick layers of paint before the end of the day. I relaxed slightly as I shook his hand. Something told me he would be a really great model to work on.

“Likewise.” We quickly separated from the hand shake and I turn again to the table behind me, dipping my paintbrush into water and then into the yellow paint. Today’s job was for a flower festival, and we – a team of makeup artists put together by the vastly eccentric but amazingly talented Hanji Zoe – were painting dancers that would be doing a performance for the crowd this afternoon. 

Hanji was an awesome boss because they really just let us do whatever the hell we wanted and never tried to impede our creativity with their own vision – once she trusted you to be part of her full-time bodypaint crew, you were able to do whatever the hell you wanted under the loose terms of the client’s brief… Which also meant they had a lot of faith in us not fucking up and making her look bad. With Hanji I get the opportunity to do what I want to do, and get paid while doing it. Which totally made up for the fact that I was in the middle of Shinganshina, 2 hours drive away from where I stayed in Torst, at 6 o’clock in the morning. 

Since today’s event was floral in nature, I had looked up a few flowers as references, figuring I would decide on what to paint once I had met my model. And my model... Well, Marco screamed sunflowers. He just looked like a sunflower kind of a guy, all bright and friendly like the living embodiment of sunshine. I didn’t even know the guy and I could tell, and so I got to work pretty quickly with creating a field of the sunny flowers over his broad and well-defined chest. 

“I have to warn you,” Marco said as I started working, “I’m kind of really ticklish. So I’m sorry if I jerk or twitch when you paint my ribs.”

I snorted and threw him a quick smirk before focusing back on the flower blooming on his chest. “Noted. Thanks for the head’s up.”

I continued to paint over his chest and down his stomach, creating the petals before I would go to the browns and ochres for the middle of the flowers. As I worked I let my mind and ears wonder to listen to some of the conversations happening in the room.

There were 5 body painters here today, and 8 performers. Bertholdt and I were mostly free hand painters, and the tall boy was working next to me, painting one of the most muscular guys I had ever seen. The guy was trying really hard to get some personal facts out of the painter, but Bertl, being the shy and easy flustered boy that he was, replied with simple yes-no answers, even when it wasn’t a yes-no question. Bertl was a really good painter – he painted fast and paint well - but he got a bit over-whelmed if he was given free-reign on work. Hanji usually gave him a lot more direction than they gave me o the rest of the team. He was very good at adapting his style to fit with whoever he was working with, and as such he worked really well in a team environment, even if he was a bit shy.

In the far corner of the room Sasha and Connie had just finished setting up the airbrush and were calling two of the dancers over to them. Sasha and Connie were an absolutely ridiculous pair of trouble makers, but they made a good team together, whether they were creating mischief or working on a project. Their art styles were different, but they complimented each other, and would probably paint the two models at the same time, swapping over as often as possible. Airbrushing with stencils always goes a lot faster than painting by hand, so the two of them would probably do about half the performers between them while Bertl and I focused on painting a model each and then help them and Hanji with touch-ups later in the day.

Speaking of Hanji. They were in the middle of the room, talking to the director of the dance company. He was a short and intimidating man, and from what I’d gather he and Hanji were old friends from college – he must have been an acting student back when Hanji was studying makeup. Hanji was telling him what designs we had all cooked up for his performers while he listened with a look of disinterest on his face, every now and then interrupting Hanji to ask them a question. Hanji was one of those painters that could jump between hand painting and airbrushing flawlessly, and had a style all their own that was striking and easy to recognise, making them one of the best body painters in the country. I always felt honoured when they called me in to work on her team.

4 other performers were sitting on the floor behind Hanji and the director, waiting to be painted. We had 4 guys and 4 girls to paint, some of them looking exhausted and cold, being here so early in the morning. I knew the feeling.

My attention was brought away from my surroundings as Marco made a breathy, almost pained noise in front of me. I looked down at the area I was painting, realising that the petal I was working on had wondered up onto one of his nipples. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” He stammered, not making eye contact with me. There was a slight blush over his face, which was kind of cute, as he tried to hide his embarrassment with a small laugh. “I guess I’m ticklish there too.”

“I’ll warn you next time I paint this area then,” I promise, continuing down his chest. I hold back on laughing at his reaction, because I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable, but the fact that he’s sensitive around certain areas isn’t really something he needs to be so embarrassed by. When you do makeup you become desensitised to the human body – getting right up in someone’s face, whether it’s for painting, special effects or beauty makeup, desensitises one form these kinds of things. Bad breath when applying makeup, drool when doing a teeth cast, body hair when painting – ticklish models are the least of my worries.

Marco just nods, a little smile on his face. After a short moment of quiet, once I’ve changed over from yellow paint to brown, he speaks again. “So is body painting your specialty?”

“Hm?” I start, having been in my own world for a moment. “Oh, I guess you could say so. I only really get body painting jobs in spring and summer though, or around Halloween. The rest of the year I do stuff like special effects makeup, paint portraits and murals, work on props and set creation for events and films.” I grimace slightly. “I do beauty makeup when I need the money, too, but I avoid it as much as possible.”

“You’ve got a big repertoire there.”

I shrug. “The more skills I have, the more money I can make. I’m still doing grunt work most of the time, though. Maybe one day I’ll get to be art director or key artist.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want to do?” Marco asks. He actually sounds like he’s really interested, and not just trying to make small talk.

“Hell yeah. I want to be the one that bosses everyone around and gets to call all the shots.”

“Who’s bossing who around?” I hear behind me, and both Marco and I jump slightly. It’s just Hanji, though, and they put an elbow on my shoulder and lean against me, grinning as they inspect my work.

“Oooh, I see we’ve decided on a sunflower theme, hey? I like it. Actually, I was thinking of doing a rose thing on Mikasa over there, so the sunflowers will look great next to her.” Hanji gestures vaguely across the room, where a beautiful assumedly half-Japanese girl sits against the wall between a boy with messy brown hair and androgynous blonde with hair tied in a small ponytail. Roses will definitely suit her look, I decide. Even while sitting on the floor in track pants and a hoodie she has a grace about her, with pale skin, pretty black hair, and dark eyes. Hanji brings my attention back to them, ruffling my hair. “So I’m going to have the Dynamic Duo over there-” they tilt their head in Connie and Sasha’s direction, who are spraying templates onto the abs of a really fit blonde girl and the shoulders of a really petite blonde girl “-work their magic with the stencils for the roses later, and then I want you to go in and paint some details when you’re done here, alright?”

I nod. “Sure, got it,” I say, shaking their elbow off my shoulder and going to dip my brush in water again. 

“Keep up the good work.” They say to me, then turns to Marco. “And Marco, let me know if he’s being a dick to you, got it? He can be a bit of a grumpy monkey sometimes.”

“Hey!” I cry out in indignation, but Marco just laughs them off. 

“I don’t think I’ll need to, but thanks anyway.” He says, giving them a huge smile. He looks over at me and winks, actually _winks_ , and I feel my face heat up.

_No getting crushes on the pretty naked dancer, Jean_ , I warn myself, going around him to paint on his back as Hanji nods one last time and goes off to pick a model of their own to work on.

I start a few more flowers on Marco’s back, and after a while he starts chatting again, asking me what made me decide on becoming a make-up artist, how I met Hanji, those kinds of questions. I answer each one readily and ask questions in return, actually surprised at my ability to small talk for once. It’s not often that it happens.

I learn that he’s not a dancer full-time, and is actually still a student, studying acting for theatre at a prestigious school in Trost I’ve never actually heard of before. He admits that he really loves singing, and would love to act in a musical one day, although he knows his chances may be slim, especially with how few theatre houses there are in our area. 

He’s passionate about dancing too, though, and knows a thing or two about all kinds of different styles, having gone to dance classes since he was old enough to walk. He tells me about the routine they’ll be doing today, a mix styles ranging from hip hop to ballet done by the different people in the crew. 

After about 2 hour of working, when the sun has finally risen outside, one of the even co-ordinators pops into the room we’re painting in and tells us that everyone that hasn’t been painted yet can come down to the food tent to get some breakfast. The woman smiles and tells us we’re doing amazing work before dashing out again. I step away from Marco and shake my paintbrush in the water container quickly, leaving it to dry on the table. 

“Do you want anything to eat, Marco? I’ll grab something for you while I’m down there.”

“Oh, yes please!” Marco grinned at me, and once again I couldn’t help appreciating how great his smile is. _He would make a good model for other projects_ , I think absently before he continued speaking. “I already had breakfast at home, so just something small like a pastry or fruit would be nice.”

“Cool. And tea? Coffee?”

“Tea would be amazing. 2 sugars, with milk.”

“Awesome.” I grin at him before turning away. “Bertl! Let’s go grab some grub.”

Bertl’s head swivels over in my direction from where he had been focusing on cleaning his brushes, doing a much more thorough job than I did. He places the brushes down next to his water container and moves towards me, wiping his hands down the front of his jeans.

I look around Bertl to the guy he’s been painting, who is stretching his arms above his head and moving his feet on the floor after having to stand still for an hour. The design Bertl is doing on him involves puzzle pieces in shades of yellow and white, with daisies thrown in where necessary. I’m curious as to what the work will look like when it’s done, but for the time being I just want to get food. “Hey, uh, Puzzle Man? You want us to you something to eat?” I call out to him. 

The hulking blonde looks over at me with – excuse the pun – puzzlement at the name, but when he realises I actually am talking to him he breaks out into an easy smile. “Sure man, that’d be great,” he booms back at me, “if they have any bacon I want like all of it, and toast is good too. Oh, and a banana would be great too, wouldn’t it, Bertie?” 

Bertl’s eyes flash open wide and he turns to stare at his model in shock. The guy winks at Bertl in return, and the painter goes absolutely red, while the guy just turns back to me as if nothing happened and adds, “also, I’d love some coffee. 1 sugar, no milk.”

I try really hard not to burst out laughing at the exchange. “Right, coming right up,” I manage with a straight face, and then Bertl and I are turning around and heading out towards the craft tent. The farm we’re painting on is beautiful, especially in this early morning light, where the sky is a light blue and the trees are a vibrant green against the stark white walls of the farm buildings. 

“So the guy you’re painting seems like quite a handful, hm?” I say to Bertl after we’ve walked a short distance down the cobble stone pathway, away from the annex we’d been painting in, heading towards the bustle around a white tent visible in the distance. 

Bertl shakes his head in exasperation. “You have no idea.” He says in a small voice, sighing. “I’m going to be exhausted by the end of the day if I keep having to make small talk with him... He – he just _flirts_ so much, what am I suppose to do?!”

I can’t hold back a laugh at the sheer desperation on Bertl’s voice, but get myself back under control after a moment, schooling my face back into the sardonic expression I mastered back in middle school and reaching up to pat Berl’s shoulder in sympathy. “That’s rough man. What’s the guy’s name anyway?”

“Reiner.” Bertl says immediately, then blushes slightly. “He wouldn’t let me start painting until I had repeated his name to him, to make sure I would remember it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Charming. If he’s really bothering you though, we could swap models? Or you could work on one of the other models for a while?”

Bertl sighed. “Yeah, thanks, but I’ll manage. And I wouldn’t want to tear you away from your model, you guys seem to have hit it off pretty well.”

I shrug, “Yeah, he’s pretty cool.”

We walk the rest of the way in silence, enjoying the early morning air, and when we get to the craft tent we’re overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food waiting on long tables ahead of us. Connie and Sasha are already here, jumping from table to table grabbing as much food as they possibly can, much to the chagrin of the staff. Bertl and I duck around them, get enough food for the two of us plus our models, and head back to the paint room.

* * *

“So tell me, ladies and gents, got any good dance horror stories you’re willing to share?” 

Hanji’s booming voice breaks though the quiet chit-chat in the room, gathering everyone’s attention to them where they’re doing the finishing touches on the guy with messy brown hair that’s being painted with black and white checkers and roses. 

A girl with a tonne of freckles (who Marco has already assured me is not related to him in any way), is the first to speak up. “Oh, man, I have the best story for you,” she starts off, a sly grin creeping over her face. She goes off on an enthusiastic telling of how she had been hired to do Flamenco dancing at a private event, had dressed up to the nines in her red dress and high heels, the whole deal, and had rocked up to the event only to find out that it’s a family pool party and they expect her to dance on the grass next to the grill.

“So there I am, I have fucking makeup on and my hair up all nice, and I’m trying to dance on the grass because I need the money, and I mean, it’s awful. Smoke in my face, my shoes keep getting stuck in the soil, kids running around splashing each other.” She sighs dramatically, looking up at the Heavens in exasperation. “Honest to god the worst job I have ever done.”

Hanji laughs and the group titters in sympathy for the girl.

“I’ve got a good one, too.” Says the guy Hanji is still busy painting. He laughs and retells a story about how he’d gone to a private event to dance, and had found out on arrival that they were expecting him to strip. “I mean, if they’d wanted a strip show I would have worn better clothes than my ballet leotard,” he grumbles, and the groups falls into laughter – not really Mikasa or the blondes next to her (of which there are three), but the freckled girl, Hanji, Reiner, and Connie and Sasha are all bursting with laughter. I just snort in amusement and continue to paint Marco’s feet. Marco grins down at me.

“You ever been mistaken for a stripper?” I ask him as means to keeping a conversation going. The others have moved on to another story, but I ignore them in favour of chatting to Marco.

The freckled boy – most of his freckles already covered in shades of yellow, brown and greens – laughs and shakes his head. In his hands is a packet of jelly beans he had pulled out of his bag earlier, which he’s been slowly making his way through. “Ah, no, I try to avoid the private event scene. I mostly just do backup dancing and stuff like that.”

I nod in understanding, talking while I paint around his toes. “Private events suck, man. They’re always trying to get out of paying you the amount you deserve.”

He nods, and then holds down the bag of jelly beans. “Hey, you want one of these?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, sure, thanks.” I hold up my hand and he splashes a few of the candy into it. 

“Ah, sorry, I gave you a lot of the yellow ones. You can put them back in the packet if you want.”

I snort. “It’s fine, the yellow ones are my favourite,” I say, stuffing the whole handful of them into my mouth at once. Marco grimaces at me,

“Really? I hate them, they’re so sour.”

“That’s what makes them the best!” I grin up at him, and it’s his turn to snort.

“Okay, fine, you can have all the yellow ones them. I won’t complain.” He returns my grin with one of his own, before I turn back to work on his feet.

We go back to our earlier chatter, ignoring the others around us, and every now and then he passes a few jelly beans to me, getting to the point where I just open my mouth and he pops one in for me, so I can keep painting. A few hours go by with nothing major happening – Bertl, Connie, Sasha, Hanji and I paint continuously, taking short breaks every now and then or swapping models whenever needed. I paint the rose girl, Mikasa, for a while, but find her not nearly as good company as Marco. 

By the time 12pm has rolled around I’m back to painting Marco again, chatting and laughing like we’ve been friends for ages. Next to us I can hear Reiner making innuendos at Bertl, who blushes and stutters and tries his best to ignore him while he does his finishing touches on the paint. I’m almost done painting as well, just got his upper legs and lower back and hands to finish off, and in other places in the room some of the performers are already fully painted, including the guy with messy brown hair (whose name is Eren, and who likes to talk _really loudly_ ), two blonde girls and a tall freckled chick. 

Hanji is working on Mikasa again, doing some detail stuff alongside the detail I had done earlier, and after a few minutes they put down the paintbrush and stretch. “Okay, Mikasa, I think you’re done!” Hanji calls out loudly. “Let it dry a bit before I set it, and then we can take a quick break before I work more on you, Armin?”

The androgynous kid in the corner looks up from the book he was reading and nods quickly before standing up. 

“Anyone else want to take a break? Con, Sash, Jean, Bert?”

Bertl and I shake our heads, and I move to get a chair to sit down and paint along Marco’s left thigh. I hear the hairspray go off behind us, as Hanji sprays the fixative over Mikasa’s body, and then the shuffling and chatting of everyone in the room save Marco, Berlt, Reiner and I going out onto the patio to take a breather. 

I can hear them chatting and laughing outside, the room suddenly feeling very quiet and calm with less people in it. Even Reiner has stopped bombarding Bertl with innuendos and has gone silent, and I can feel my brain click off into my creative zone as I try to finish up on Marco – only an hour left until they’re all meant to go outside and perform, and I want to get done with enough time to clean up my work station so that I can go watch them.

I get snip bits of the conversation going on outside. The freckled chick, boasting loudly about how awesome her girlfriend is (one of the blonde girls in the dance team, though I’m not sure which one); Connie and Sasha, recounting a tale of one of the pranks they pulled on set of a student film back in varsity; that Eren guy, talking about stripping again. I can hear Sasha and Connie getting excited about something or another, but I can't hear actual words, and when the group fall into silence I don't pay it much mind.

I don't pay it much mind, either, when the group come back inside and move to sit on the floor again, not noticing that most of them are facing Marco and my direction. I also don't notice when Eren comes towards us until he's standing next to my chair and asking, "sorry, can I just squeeze in here real quick?", and in my Zone I don't register the fact that there's plenty of space all around us for him to walk past, and what would he even need here anyway, when the only thing in things corner are my paints and Marco's phone?

No, instead I simply lean back out of his way, dipping my brush into the paint again, and when I turn back to what I expect to see of Marco's thigh, I am greeted by a naked chest covered in checkered black and white squares and red roses. 

 

I blink once before I feel a hand snake over my shoulder and around the back of my neck, and then Eren is gyrating his hips against me, rolling his toned stomach in front of me, and I'm so surprised and confused by this sudden development that all I can do is stare at him in utter bewilderment, paint brush in hand.

_Finally_ I seem to snap out of my haze, and with a _what the fuck_ \- whether I've said it out loud or not makes no difference - I'm pushing the small dancer off of my lap and onto the floor. He lands with a loud thump, and behind me the rest of the dancers and painters break out into loud laughter - even Eren on the floor is laughing with them, paying no mind to a fall that must have hurt like hell. 

Not really knowing what to do now, with my face aflame, I turn back to Marco and continue working on his leg, my teeth grit together and my eyebrows drawn down in a vicious glare. I can hear everyone behind us still laughing and talking, and from what I gather at least none of them had the time to video this. Good.

The embarrassment hasn't really set in yet, I'm more pissed off than I am embarrassed at this point, and I'm trying really hard to just ignore everything that's going on around me. My main concern right now is finishing off Marco's paint job, and that's what I'm going to do.

The others have gone back to work at this point, Connie and Sasha doing final touches and touch ups on the complete models while Hanji is putting head pieces and weird accessories on some of them, tying loin clothes around the underwear we did not paint. I'm almost done with Marco, too, when I feel a hand fall on my shoulder, followed by a gentle squeeze.

"Hey, you okay?" I hear a soft voice ask, and when I look up I see Marco leaning over me just slightly, a concerned look on his face. "You've been glaring holes into my leg for like ten minutes now."

Shit.

I look down at the floor - or, really, his feet - and try to tame my face into a more neutral expression. "I - shit. Sorry, Marco-"

"It's alright, Jean, don't apologize. I just want to know if you're alright."

I finally look back up at him, and am rewarded with a gentle smile. I try to return it as best I can. "I- Yeah, I am, thanks. Just a little embarrassed."

"Good." Marco grins down at me, his smile turning almost cheeky. "You don't need to feel embarrassed, though. That wasn't even a very good lap dance."

I scoff, “Oh, really?”

"Oh, yeah.” Yes, Marco’s grin definitely has a cheeky quality to it, “His technique was pretty sloppy."

I’m looking up at Marco and, maybe it’s that smile of his or the glint in his eye, but something about his expression seems to knock any sort of sense out of me, because I say the first thing that comes to my mind, "Maybe you could show me a better technique some time?"

…I.

Shit.

I'm about the apologize for being a dumb shit when Marco's smile grows larger, showing off the impressive dimples in his cheeks. "Definitely."

My heart stops.

I look up at him in pure awe for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly just happened, but when I finally work up the sense to say something – I’m not sure what - I get interrupted: "Okay, guys, half an hour until show time!"

I look down at Marco and he's... done. Every single one of his freckles covered up in bright yellows and greens, and more sombre ochres and browns, creating stylized sunflowers and leaves up and down his entire body. His face has been painted yellow, framed in brown, and while one wouldn't usually expect a bright yellow face to work in a design - somehow it suits him. 

He smiles as we make eye contact. "We done?"

I return the smile. "We are," I say, putting my paintbrush on the table behind me and grabbing the hairspray. "Well, the paint job is done, but you need some props still too."

I get up from the chair and he takes a few steps back, opening himself up into a starfish position with his arms out and his legs spread. I shake the can in my hand and quickly spray him down with it, fixing the paint to his body so it won't rub off too quickly.

Once he's covered in hairspray I take him over to Hanji's prop collection. The organizers of the event have gotten us an array of plants and flowers to attach to the dancers, and I'm happy to spot so sunflowers in the mix. I grab some wire and fashion a flower crown to place on Marco's head, weaving the large flowers into the wire. I have to crane my neck up to get it on his head, him being just slightly taller than me, and once it's clipped into his hair I smile at him. "Perfect." I say, and he smiles again, showing off those dimples.

Bertl and Reiner are done too, and Bertl is adding some large daisies to him, sticking them on his skin near his hip and on his shoulders. It looks good. We both grab some green cloth from the table and drape them over our model’s underwear, fashioning a loin cloth with a safety pin. I’m suddenly immensely glad that we didn’t have to paint the models’ underwear and groin area like I have done for many other events. The thought of getting up close and personal with Marco’s groin makes me a lot more flustered than it should.

I leave Marco with Reiner and the rest of the dancers to do their warm ups, and go back to my table to clean up. I can’t necessarily say that cleaning up is just a pretence to be alone for a moment, because I really do need to clean up, but that doesn’t make me any less grateful for the excuse. I go about putting lids back onto paint pots, closing containers, wiping drips and smudges off the table top. I pick up my paintbrushes and water container and head for the bathroom. 

Once I’ve stepped out of the paint room and into the corridor leading up to the bathroom, everything immediately quietens, their voices becoming a mild hum in the background, and by the time I’m actually in the bathroom and closing the door behind me there’s complete silence. It’s nice. I go to put my paint stuff in the basin, but instead of switching on the faucet and cleaning them, I stop to stare at the mirror. I’m not really looking at myself when I look into the mirror – I still look how I did this morning; bags under my eyes from waking up at 5, skin pale, eyebrows drawn down. I have a smudge of yellow paint on my chin. Whatever, it’s not important. What is important is the fact that I seem to have developed a crush on the dancer I’ve been painted for the last 6 hours. Talk about unprofessional. 

I sigh and run a hand through my hair, then go to wipe the paint off of my chin. I’m not freaking out about the fact that I have a crush on someone, because it’s inevitable. But… I need to try and get Marco’s number somehow, and I’m not sure how to do that. The embarrassment from earlier is also catching up to me now, the lap dance from Eren and the many different ways I could have reacted to it. 

And then there’s the whole thing that happened after that. Marco was flirting with me, right? I’m sure he was. He probably wouldn’t say no if I asked him for his number, right?

I sigh and look away from the mirror, turning on the faucet to wash my paintbrushes. I watch the yellows and greens wash down the drain, until it’s just a brown wash of colour, until the water runs clear, and then, with one last glance into the mirror, I go outside.

* * *

The show goes really well. The performers go out and do their thing and the crowd goes wild, cameras and phones all aimed in their direction to try and catch the whole performance. I want to film it too, but I refrain, knowing that if I do I will just end up filming only Marco, and that’s just creepy. 

Instead I watch from the sidelines, and I am blown away by their talent. Although it was definitely a hip hop dance, each performer moved so differently, each of them bringing something different to the performance. The freckled girl had mentioned before that she was a Flamenco dancer, and you could see it in the way she moved. She didn’t walk so much as stalk, a fierceness to every move she made. She moved around the petite blonde girl with sharp movements, and the blonde reacted to each move with fluid and dainty counters – even if you couldn’t guess it from the build, you could tell from the way she danced that she had a background in ballet.

The other blonde girl was dancing near Mikasa, and both of them danced like they were fighting – quick, jabbing motions forward and fast, flowing retreats back. The blonde had some powerful legs on her, too, moving them back and around and jumping like a fucking gazelle, at one point jumping straight into Reiner’s arms to be lifted high into the air. I was kind of amazed that their bodypaint didn’t smudge.

Reiner may have been a heavy lifter for her, but that didn’t mean his dancing wasn’t amazing in its own right. For all his brawn, he was fast on his feet and moved like he had more joints than any person should rightfully have. Eren and the androgynous blonde were dancing either side of Reiner, the blonde dancing like dance was a _science_ , something he had learnt and studied to perfection. Eren, on the other hand, had a style that was admittedly sloppy, but he made up for it with energy – and a lot of it. He jumped around, doing flips and hand stands and body rolls like nobody’s business. 

But, really, it was Marco that stole the show. I might have been biased, but the way he moved was incredible. The way his body rolled and his limbs moved, both powerful and incredibly sexy. I took in everyone else, but Marco pulled me in, grabbing my attention and not letting it go. My mouth could have been open and I could have been drooling in front of everyone and I wouldn’t have known it, so absorbed in his movement as I was.

The performance ended sooner than it had any right to. 7 hours of painting and they were done performing within 5 minutes, and I’ll admit I’m disappointed it didn’t last longer. As the music closed off and the crowd started cheering madly, Marco’s eyes found mine, and he winked, a radiant smile on his face, his chest moving up and down rabidly as he regained his breath.

He _winked. Again._

Fuck.

The performers are expected to stay at the festival for the next few hours to take photographs with the crowds and just look cool, although the painters are free to leave any time they want. Usually I would be one of the first to leave, packing up my shit and leaving before the performance even happens. This time, though. Well, I’m not leaving until I get to talk to Marco again. Even if I don’t work up the courage to ask for his number.

I hang back as he gets bombarded with people, watching from the corner of my eye as he laughs while talking to people and smiles for photographs. I let him be as I wonder the festival, looking at the different stalls they have up. It’s actually a really great event, with a lot of interesting food for sale at the farmer’s market, crafts of all kinds in another area, and an abundance of flowers and flower products up for sale. Every time I see a sunflower my heart jumps a little, and I have to tell myself to stop being a sap and get my shit together.

I’ve been wondering around for about 20 minutes, looking at a different food stalls when a flash of yellow catches the corner of my eye. I turn around and he’s behind me.

“Hey Jean,” he grins.

I try not to smile like an idiot when I see him, try to ignore the fluttering feeling in my chest. “Hey.” I reply, as calmly as I can.

“I was worried you would have left by now.” He looks a little sheepish when he says it. I wish his face wasn’t covered in bodypaint so I could tell whether he was blushing or not.

“I’m probably going to leave soon,” I say, shrugging. It could come off as rude, but I try to say it lightly, smiling at him. He seems to get it.

With a nod, Marco steps closer to me, a grin still on his face. “I’m really glad I got to work with you today, Jean, you’re an amazing artist.”

“Thanks,” I look away from him for a second, trying to take the compliment. I might know that I’m good at what I do, but it’s always embarrassing to hear people tell me they think I’m good, too. “I, uh, saw you dancing. You were amazing.”

Marco’s smile somehow gets even bigger. His eyes are fucking sparkling. “Yeah? You think so?”

“Yeah, you’re really good.”

“Thanks.”

There was a moment of silence. Shit, maybe now would be the best time to ask him for his number?

Before I can even get that far, though, Marco interrupts me. “Actually, uh, Jean. I’m glad I was able to find you before you left. I actually wanted to ask if I could get your number?” he paused for a second. “I mean, I don’t have my phone on me, so what I’m really asking is if I could give you my number?” he laughed awkwardly at himself. Fuck that laugh is cute. I wish I could see his blush.

I stared at him for a moment, before realizing that wait, fuck, I need to reply to that. “Uh, right!” I shook myself out of my reverie and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I closed the space between us and lifted the phone up for him, opening a new contact for him to give me his details. 

“Hey, Jean! Marco!”

I start, looking over to the voice calling us. It’s Sasha and Connie, walking up with bags full of food from the farmer’s market, as well as an ice cream each. Sasha waves at us, somehow, even with her arms laden down by food. “Hey guys! You were really good when you were dancing, Marco!” 

Marco beamed at her. “Thanks, Sasha! I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Hey, did Jean take a photo of you yet for his portfolio? Because you look amazing. You did really well, Jean-bo.”

“Thanks, Sash. Shit, I haven’t actually taken a photo.” I look down at the phone still in my hands, then back at Marco. “Hey, can I get a photo quick? Sasha’s right, I don’t know how I forgot.”

“Yeah, no problem!” _He never seemed to stop smiling_ , I think, as he takes a step back and lets me take photographs of him. I get a few from front and back, and then a portrait one, but as I’m moving to put my phone back in my pocket Sasha stops me.

“Wait, Jean, do you want me to take a photo of you guys together?” Connie asked, having just finished the ice-cream he had been eating. He rubs his hands on his jeans.

“Oh, yeah, please Connie! I’d really appreciate it!” Marco says before I can answer myself, and I look at him in bewilderment for a second, surprised at my eagerness. He notices and gives me a sheepish smile, nudging me with his elbow. “Come on, I want a photo with the artist, is that so weird?”

I just laugh at him in reply, shaking my head as I hand my phone to Connie. “Thanks man,” I say, moving back to stand next to Marco. 

“Come on, Jean, stand closer!” Sasha shouts through a mouthful of fudge – I don’t know where she pulled the fudge from, but the ice-cream is melting all over her other hand. 

I sigh, knowing they’re not going to let me off the hook until I stand right in Marco’s personal bubble, and so I move in close to his side for the photograph, as close as possible. I’m surprised when I feel Marco put an arm around my shoulders as I do so, and when I look up at him in question he just shoots that sheepish smile at me again, and I can’t help but return it. Goddamn did I wish I could see his face right now. I want to know if he’s blushing as much as I am.

I hear the camera shutter noise from my phone and look back and Connie in alarm, but he just grins at me. “Okay, next one you guys can actually look at the camera. Smile!”

I roll my eyes, but go along with it, giving the camera a natural smirk. Connie takes a few photos before he steps closer to us.

“Okay, one more, this one’s a close up.”

I’m about to ask why the fuck we need so many photos, when I feel lips press against my cheek, and I freeze. I hear the shutter go off – Connie took a photo.

“Ok cool! Here we go, hope you like the photos!” Connie grins, handing my phone back to me. I’m still in shock, only managing to open and close my hand around the phone, while next to me I hear Marco thanking Connie.

Connie and Sasha say their goodbyes and head off to look at more food stalls. “Let’s see the photos, Jean!” Marco says brightly after they leave, and when I don’t reply instantly he simply pries the phone out of my hands and opens the photo album himself. 

“Oh! Jean, these photos are great!” He holds the phone out for me to see as he scrolls through the photos. One of us standing together, my smiling up at him as he smiles down at me; three of us standing next to each other, both of us smiling at the camera – him with a bright grin, me with a smirk. The last is the close up of us, with Marco kissing my cheek and me staring at the camera in shock. If I weren’t so embarrassed I would think it was adorable, but for now all I can think is _he kissed me_ … even if it was just on the cheek.

“I’m going to send them to myself quick, okay?” Marco says from next to me, and I watch as he fiddles on my phone for a moment before he hands it back to me. “There we go! Thanks, Jean.” He smiles again, showing off his dimples, and the paint around his mouth is starting to form cracks with just how much he smiles. “I’m going to go get back to work, but message me later, okay? I’ll see you around.”

And with that he gives me one last kiss on the cheek, as if it’s the most fucking normal thing in the world and doesn’t cause my heart to stop beating in my chest, and turns to go on his merry way, leaving me to stare after him in awe.

**Author's Note:**

> So, on a job in September I was painting a performer and everyone was outside smoking and basically my boss dared one of the dancers to give me a lap dance. And like Jean I didn't realise what was happening until it happened. But I didn't react like Jean... My reaction was more embarrassing, I think, because I just looked at him and said "I'm trying work here!" and just leaned around him to carry on painting until he got off me XD lmao
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this! I'm planning at least two more stories in this universe. 
> 
> Also, I couldn't fit it anywhere in the story, but Bertholdt also ended up with Reiner's number - Reiner wrote it with permanent marker on Bertl's arm.


End file.
